Sexy, Straight and Struggling
by Besina
Summary: John and Sherlock have been together for a while when a missing persons case leads Sherlock onto a human trafficking ring, which is responsible for the disappearance of many good-looking, straight, young men.::: Sting operation, undercover work, slash, roleplaying, simulated rape, human trafficking, e-stim, BDSM, implied abduction, video cameras, rough sex, restraints
1. Discussion

John climbed over his lover in bed, gradually making his way up Sherlock's chest to drop a passionate kiss on his lips.

Sherlock hummed and kissed back.

They'd been discussing a case ever since the detective had woken up that morning, being the recipient of an incredibly enthusiastic good-morning blowjob from his boyfriend.

John had learned, since they'd been together, not to let the detective's thoughts immediately turning to crime, after spectacular sex, bother him. It was just the way Sherlock was wired - and it's not as if his boyfriend ever forgot to return the favour - just the opposite. The way Sherlock would focus in on him after a case was finished was simply phenomenal.

The latest had started out simply as a missing persons case, which led them to several other missing persons reports recently, then to apparent kidnappings and a human trafficking ring they needed to ferret out.

It was odd in that young, good-looking, straight _men_ seemed to be the ones being targeted. Many had simply disappeared in the last few months, and it wasn't until a few of them had been spotted being rented out to well-to-do men in the back room of a disreputable club, that anyone had cottoned on to their disappearances being linked to sex trafficking. Apparently, there was a market for men (straight, gay, and otherwise) who got off on using straight men who'd been rendered helpless to their advances - the unwelcome sex being more about humiliation and the power rush it provided to the perpetrators, than attraction.

Infiltrating it had seemed like the best idea, but doing so when one was an unknown player was going to be difficult. He'd come up with a plan, but John was being overprotective, as usual.

The doctor pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eye, "Are you sure you want to do this, Sherlock? I mean, play is one thing, but you seriously want to do this for the entire time? You've laid out quite a lot."

"I'll manage. It might even be fun."

"Well, I'm sure parts of it will be, but five hours and then overnight seems extreme."

"You're forgetting the next morning."

"I'm only speaking of times when you'll have to remain immobile - that's going to put quite a strain on you."

"I've had to remain still for worse, and when I'm really exhausted, I don't care what position I'm in. You're still forgetting about the next morning, however."

"Okay, yes, you'll have to be restrained then too, but it won't be for so long."

Sherlock pulled back another inch and raised an eyebrow at him, changing the subject slightly, "You think you can play your role? You're going to have to make it believable."

"Oh, I can make it believable enough, especially if I only think of it as playing - it's when the bastard shows up to buy you that I'll have trouble not putting a bullet in his head."

"We'll keep it unloaded, then."

"Not a chance."

Sherlock pulled him back in for another kiss.


	2. Preparations

It took several days to get the items they needed, then to build or install them in the flat. When the time finally came, it saw an incredibly naked Sherlock being cinched onto a tall, thick, square standing post. It ran from floor to ceiling near the bottom of Sherlock's bed, and he was being fastened onto it with some wide industrial-strength nylon straps.

Each ran through a small ratchet at the back to tighten it up and hold it securely once they'd been placed where they wanted.

A camera was set up in the far corner to record the process, but it hadn't been turned on yet.

John threaded one around Sherlock's neck, rather tentatively. "You sure about this?"

"It's fine John, go ahead."

John fastened the strap around the back of the post and gave it a couple of ratchets.

"Let me know if it's too tight."

"Another click or two should be perfect."

"Okay..." John gave it another two pulls and Sherlock's head was pulled back snugly against the post - enough to keep him in place without restricting his airflow.

"Perfect. Okay, chest and arms, then turn on the camera for the rest."

John pulled another strap around Sherlock's chest, ratcheting it tight behind him, then pulled his arms behind the post and bound them in the same manner at the biceps and again at his wrists.

"Okay, show time, I suppose." John hung his head for a moment, closing his eyes, shaking himself loose and mentally stepping into the persona he was supposed to play. It was important he got this right, and while it was supposed to be serious, there was no reason he couldn't enjoy it - they were playing after all, even if the intended audience didn't know it.


	3. Filming and the First Trial

John walked over to the camera and turned it on. Turning on his heel, he returned to Sherlock, who was now standing there looking completely doped up. It was scary how good he was, but then again, he did have some experience with it...

He finished strapping Sherlock in, in full view of the camera, which stood silently recording it all. By the time he was done, Sherlock had straps running about and holding him to the post at his forehead, neck, chest, stomach, hips, mid-thigh, knees, and calves; and behind him at his biceps, elbows, and wrists. He was standing straighter than it would ever be possible without them. A special strap, flat in the middle and rounded at the edges, had been placed between his teeth and tightened to serve as a gag, and another had circled his head, going under his jaw and buckled at the crown to ensure he was unable to open his mouth.

John approached and dismounted the camera from its tripod in order to take it and circle around Sherlock, showing off his body and the extent of his restraints. Sherlock moaned, slightly loopily, his eyes at a drugged half-mast, when it focused on his face.

John went back to the tripod and refastened the camera to it, pulling a chair up in front of it, Sherlock still visible in the background, as he began to talk into it.

"What I have for sale, gentlemen, is this fine specimen behind me. He's not broken in yet, which is rather the way I like it, but you can decide for yourselves if you'd like to break him entirely." He glanced behind him for a moment, eyes running hungrily over Sherlock before he turned back to the camera.

"I'm rather loath to give him up, but I find myself in a bit of a financial situation, and needs must." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully before continuing. "Regardless of my monetary position, I don't intend to barter. The starting price is fixed, and he will be auctioned on my site so that interested parties will be able to bid competitively."

He paused a moment, smiling, "Now I intend to show you why he should be worth the sum I'm asking, and I'm sure by the end of this video, you'll completely agree.

"He's only had one owner, me, and I found and," he made air quotes, smiling deviously, " 'recruited' him on my own. And let me tell you, he wasn't an easy one to take down!"

He cleared his throat and continued.

"He's still quite tight. He's got beautiful skin and features, and I've taken care not to mar them. I've also taken good care of his teeth, even though I do keep him gagged or muffled most of the time.

"He's feisty and has still got a lot of fight left in him when he's not drugged or ready to pass out, which can be quite a lot of fun. He also _hates_ cock, which can make it all the more thrilling to drive one into him!" He smiled gleefully at the camera.

"Of course, if you purchase him, you can do anything you like - you certainly don't have to do any of this, but I like to think it shows off some of his best uses, and hell, it might give you some new ideas to work with. I hope that he'll be going to an owner who's going to use him as often and creatively as he should be, as otherwise it'd be a terrible waste.

"Now, to get him in this state," he motioned behind him, "I've found drugging him is preferable. Whatever you use, you do want something that will wear off fairly soon if you want to play with him while he's aware of it, and trust me, _you do_.

"Tasing is an option, as are tranquillizers, but despite his looks, he's rather heavy to haul around, and a light dose of a hypnotic sedative makes him easy to lead wherever you want to put him."

"Now I'm going to show you one of my more strenuous routines for him - a fun and entertaining way to wear him out to the point you can do anything you like to him and he won't be up for much struggling. Don't worry," he added, "I'll show off plenty of his struggling capabilities later on." He picked up the camera again and brought it back to Sherlock, who seemed to be sobering up a bit. He aimed the camera down at some gear, to what looked like a pair of metal cock rings connected by a thin strap, lying on a towel at Sherlock's feet.

"It's best you start this in the morning, especially if you have other things to do, since you're going to bring him to a bit of a boil, and there's not much to do but watch for a while. The camera I'm using now sends the signal to my laptop on an encrypted feed, so I usually set it up and can monitor the fun from wherever I happen to be. Now these," he squatted down next to the gear and hefted the rings in his hand, "you may not have seen before. They're for electric play - don't worry, no one gets electrocuted, they just send a mild pulse of energy through them, which works the muscles underneath. I've tried them on myself before and, depending on the settings, it can feel like anything from light stroking or sucking to something much more intense. At any rate, it's very good for milking an orgasm out of him, which is what we're going to do... _for the next five hours._" His grin was absolutely demonic at this point.

There was a grunt of panicked disapproval from above him as he said this, whereupon the grin grew wider and he said, "Ah! Good! He's coming out of it."

John didn't say much more as the camera simply showed him placing the rings at the base and tip of Sherlock's cock, connecting and securing them, then plugging a small jack into the end of the rig, a cord leading from that to a control box waiting on the floor.

"If you want to stimulate his prostate, _which I do_, since it provides a much more intense experience, there's also a butt-plug which acts in much the same manner. As a matter of fact, with the right settings, you can make the muscles in the anus contract in such a way to make his body actually fuck himself with it, no hands required." He giggled a little, before wiping a hand down his face trying to compose himself a bit before he continued, "Anyway, this is it." He held up a slim, black plug with silver contact shields running down both sides, slightly angled to better get at the prostate. "It requires a bit of special lubrication, which, had I been thinking earlier, I would have done before I bound him from the legs down, but we'll make do with what we've got.

He slicked the toy up liberally, then moved around to the back, where he could slide a hand up behind Sherlock and wiggle the toy between his arse cheeks. He patted Sherlock's flank as he worked the toy, Sherlock moaning, distressed, above him as he gradually wriggled it in. It took quite a while to do that way, and while he did, he looked at the camera, nodding at Sherlock's bum and asking, "Quite nice, isn't it? That's _nothing_ compared to what it feels like though." At that point the tip of the plug popped in and John settled it inside his captive who was attempting to squirm, but was strapped in so snugly from head to toe, he had absolutely no room in which to do it, so he groaned instead.

John chuckled again and connected the jack into the base of the toy purely by feel, then showed as he connected that wire to the control box as well. Sherlock was breathing rapidly through his nose. John patted him on the flank once more as he turned the box on and adjusted some settings. "Calm down, pet, we'll have you coming in no time."

Sherlock gave an unhappy groan as the machine clicked on and his muscles were stimulated.

John took a minute to film Sherlock's cock raising to attention despite his best attempts not to get aroused, then around to the back to show his bum flexing just a bit, indicating that inside, his muscles were indeed making the toy fuck him against his will.

John walked back to the tripod, continuing to speak into the camera as he refastened it to the base and focused it in on Sherlock again. "I'm going to cut this for length, but if you're interested in entire thing, the uncut version will be up on my video account for a short time beginning on the third. I'll send you the link along with the password, if you care to inquire. Email's at the bottom of the screen, or at least it will be when I'm done editing this." He chuckled and turned, leaving the room, and leaving Sherlock to pant through his nose and try not to give in to the sensations pulsing through his body as the camera filmed his plight.

* * *

.

**Author's Note:**

If you're curious about the electric cock rings and butt plug I mention in here (also known as e-stim, if you feel like doing a bit of googling), try here (not exactly like the ones I described, but close)

Check the item called Electric Probe Plug (item number P1607) at Stockroom

and

Something called the 'Zeus Bi-polar Silicone Cock Ring Set' by the folks over at Estim

I'd provide actual links but FF doesn't allow for it.


	4. Exhausting Sherlock

John sat down heavily in the sitting room. He thought he'd done well playing a rather nefarious villain, and if it was just the two of them he wouldn't have been so stressed out over it, but the idea that other people, intent on viewing Sherlock as a piece of meat to be bought and sold, would be seeing it made his stomach a little queasy. Still, he wanted Sherlock to enjoy it as much as possible, even if he had to pretend not to, and flicked on the laptop to keep watch over the feed it was being sent from the bedroom.

John had tried to argue Sherlock into not doing a marathon session, since in the end it would be nothing but torture, but the genius had held out that the uncut video would make it seem much more legitimate to those who might be involved.

John's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Sherlock on the laptop, moan and flex, trying, but completely unable to move, until finally he closed his eyes as an orgasm was ripped from him. His sperm jetted away in small arcs as he came, his teeth clenching on the strap keeping him gagged. After that first time, the moaning and groaning came nearly non-stop as his over-sensitised bits and prostate continued to be worked by the electric impulses of the machine.

During the negotiations under which John would allow Sherlock to run with this crazy idea of his, Sherlock had finally agreed to snap his fingers if anything went wrong, and thus John was watching with the volume turned all the way up. He would have preferred to stay in the same room with Sherlock to monitor him, but since he had to play the role of a sadistic bastard, it had to seem like he'd left him there on his own. Even so, Sherlock's predicament and amplified moans were turning him on quite a bit. He shifted uncomfortably, and after Sherlock had spilled for a third time, didn't restrain himself from unzipping his flies and stroking himself along with Sherlock's vocalizations. A few minutes of his own attentions soon had him quaking and coming hard all over his own hand.

Every hour John would get up, re-enter the bedroom, check the connections and generously re-lube the toy before nestling it back into Sherlock's arse to continue its stimulation, occasionally making comments to the camera, but for the most part ignoring it. After the first two hours of constant stimulation, he was getting to be a little worried about his companion, and when he was working the toy back into him, reached up to gently take hold of his hand. Sherlock just squeezed back reassuringly, and after the toy was re-seated, John waited a moment before getting up and leaving the room again.

It wasn't long after that that Sherlock had started to come dry, still stimulated to orgasm, but all his ejaculate completely milked from him and now laying in stripes all over the floor. Long into hour three and Sherlock still hadn't snapped his fingers once. John was beginning to wonder if his lover had a bit of a masochistic streak, and he watched with curiosity as Sherlock endured the rest of his treatment.

When the timer went off marking the end of the five-hour period, John was on his feet in an instant. He paused for a second, getting back into the headspace of being Sherlock's owner, showing him off to prospective buyers. Yeah, okay, horny, evil bastard. Horny, he found, was not going to be difficult. He adjusted himself before walking back into the bedroom and turning off and disconnecting the toys.

He messed about taking them off of and out of Sherlock, before turning back to the camera.

"Now you see, I've had time to get plenty of work done, and been able to watch my fucktoy wear himself out and fuck himself dry for me, even though he didn't want to. Usually by this time, he's so worn out that I don't even have to worry about restraints if I'm not in the mood. Other than when he's drugged, he's at his most pliable like this, and since I like him aware of what's going on, this is one of my favourite times to fuck him. Well, wait, that's not quite true, as any time I fuck him is one of my favourite times. It just all depends on what I'm in the mood for. Luckily, right now, I'm in the mood for this, and it's just about time you saw him properly stuffed, now isn't it?" Sherlock moaned again. "See? He even agrees."

John turned back to Sherlock, gradually undoing each of the buckles, leaving the one about his chest nearly for last, then finally unbuckling that, and catching Sherlock as he slumped, he turned him slightly to bend him chest-down, width-wise across the bed; Sherlock lay there quite limply. John worked on removing the gag and jaw strap as he talked, "I can even leave him unmuzzled, as he's not much of a threat when he's in this condition. Plus, you can hear him so much better that way! Now," he dropped down behind Sherlock's legs for a minute, "spread 'em, pet."

Sherlock didn't move of his own volition but one could see his legs being pulled gently apart and hear the clinking of chains as they were tethered in place, forcing his stance to remain open. John stood up again, pulling off his belt and looping it around Sherlock's arms, which had been pulled unprotestingly behind his back. He turned back and addressed the camera again, "I said you don't have to tie him up at all when you've tired him out so much, and you really don't, since he hasn't got enough energy left to do anything but lie there. I just like the look of it. Now, for the fun part."

John lined himself up behind Sherlock, slowly stripping out of his clothes and palming his erection as he eyed his captive, ignoring the camera completely. He dug briefly in the bedside table, then ripped open a condom package and rolled one onto himself, squirting lube into his hand and slathering it over his cock. "Been looking forward to this," he whispered, half for Sherlock's benefit, as he slowly pressed into him, his eyes dropping shut as he did so.

"Mmm. All that workout and he's still so tight back here. Oh, I am going to _miss_ this!" He grabbed hold of Sherlock's hips and began pistoning in and out of the warm body in front of him, groaning as he did so, then pulling Sherlock's hair, so his head rose from the bed and the camera could get a good shot of his face while his arse was being pummelled. John groaned and worked him some more, right until he was at the brink, then he stopped abruptly, pulling out, and letting Sherlock's upper half flop back down on the bed once more.

"Good god, hate to stop, but I have to show you _this_." John pulled off the condom and threw it in the trash as he walked around the other side of the bed, patting Sherlock's face rather roughly as tired, closing eyes looked blearily up at him. "Oh no, not yet, you've still got work to do." He reached behind Sherlock, grabbing hold of his arms and heaved him further up onto the bed, pulling him so his head was just at the edge of the bed. The chains at his ankles clinked and one could see he was being pulled quite taut, still, he managed to stretch the distance, just barely. "Open up."

Sherlock's mouth dropped open without a sound, and John slid his cock in. "Suck," he commanded, and Sherlock's lips sealed around the base, while John began to fuck his face aggressively. "Such a dear when he's all worn out, yet he'll remember all this, and he'll hate himself for it later. It's not your fault, fucktoy," he smiled down at Sherlock as he continued to fuck his mouth, "you're just too tired to fight. You know when to give in. Don't worry, you'll have lots of energy tomorrow." And with that he felt himself tense and pulse into Sherlock's mouth, sighing with each release. He withdrew and stroked Sherlock's throat. "Swallow, love, it's the only protein you'll be getting for a while." The camera watched as Sherlock closed his eyes and reluctantly swallowed.

John walked back around to the far side of the bed, unfastened the chains from it, then moved to the base and re-fastened them there. Next, he crawled up on the bed beside Sherlock's torso and manually lifted and straightened him out on the bed, then reached for the headboard to chain Sherlock into the thick manacles that hung from it.

"I keep him chained at night," he spoke, addressing no one as he faced away from the camera while he worked, "and I muzzle him, because he's usually got a bit of vim by the time he wakes up and loves to shout and try to attract attention, plus he's given to biting, so it's best all 'round. Unless you've got a sound-proofed dungeon you can keep him in, I'd recommend it."

He finished and sank down on the bed next to an exhausted, chained and muzzled Sherlock, who now had black leather snugged up around the bottom portion of his face and buckled tightly into place both around the back and top of his head. "Ah! That's another little selling point I forgot to mention. This one had already gotten himself used to going long times without food, so you can go up to three days without feeding him and it's not too much of a hardship on his body as long as you force him to eat well the rest of the time. It's nice because if you're going for a marathon fuck-fest, you can simply not feed him for a couple of days, then you can fuck him more spontaneously since don't have to clean him out more than once, right before you start - just don't forget to rehydrate him. You can also keep him muzzled for quite a long time too, which is great if you like to hear him protest without alerting the local police.

He looked back over his shoulder at Sherlock who was now unconscious. "Ah, he's out already. I still may have some fun with him though, I'm not sure. Again, I'm going to cut this for time, but the next few hours will be in the aforementioned uncut version, along with his previous five-hour stint."

He paused for a second looking at him, then musing, "He is _beautiful_ in chains, isn't he?" He leaned down and lapped at Sherlock's nipples, which pebbled up despite his being asleep. "And he's all mine," he sounded wistful, "but," he said, looking back up at the camera again, "he could be all _yours_ - you just need to meet my price and beat everyone else's."

"Normally, I'd throw a cover or two over him and turn out the lights to let him sleep, but as he's out cold as it is, and you're watching to see what goods are on display, I'll leave him like this. He doesn't move around much when he's sleeping - gotten used to being chained up, I guess, so there's not going to be a lot to see. I'm sure you've already seen how pretty he is, and he does have a gorgeous cock," he picked it up, weighing it in his hand briefly while he showed it to the camera. "Even when it's flaccid, it's impressive. Quite a lot you can play with down here."


	5. John's Fucktoy

John got up off the bed and went back out to the living room. Aside from getting and setting up all the props, they'd started all this madness about ten hours ago; plotting out what was to be said and done, signals, how to film it, etc., and only finally gotten down to stripping and binding Sherlock about eight hours ago. Filming started at about seven-and-a-half, and Sherlock had definitely had the most strenuous part of it. It made sense that he should be worn out by it all, but John was tired too. He wanted to go upstairs and lie down for a while, but he was feeling extremely protective of Sherlock - perhaps because all that roleplaying had actually made him feel like he was hawking his boyfriend as an object for some rich arsehole to buy and abuse. No one was selling Sherlock, even if pretending he was _did_ get him off a bit.

He settled down on the couch, leaving the monitor running and got a few hours of shut-eye. Then, because he was feeling a bit possessive, he went back into the bedroom to gaze at his unconscious, chained up lover, and jerked off on him, watching his come glisten on Sherlock's skin, then mixing it with a bit of lotion, rubbed it all in before he left, camera still filming.

* * *

Morning came and John must have slept heavily on the couch because Sherlock was awake before he was. He woke to the rattling of chains and looked at the computer to see Sherlock testing their hold on him. Not wanting to look as though he hadn't slept in his own bed, which wouldn't look good on the video, John simply stripped off yesterday's clothes and trotted into the bedroom completely naked.

He looked at Sherlock struggling, and swatting him playfully on the hip, greeted, "Hello my lovely cumbucket, ready for me to dump some more in that gorgeous arse of yours today?" Sherlock glared and struggled a bit harder, yanking the chains strategically. John chuckled and commented, "He hates to be reminded." He smiled once more asking teasingly, "How much of my come do you think you can take before you get addicted to it?" Then commenting to the camera, "God, I love to fill him with it!

"I'll be back in a minute to pound that arse - off to shower first!" And he disappeared through the bathroom door, where taps were turned on and John's happy humming could be heard. After that there was the toothbrush, the flush of a toilet and water running as he washed his hands.

He came back in squeaky clean, rubbing his hair dry and dropped onto the bed next to Sherlock. "Hello lover, ready to take some more? I swear you must have more of my DNA in you now than your own.

"Ooh, see those eyes? He's ready to kill me. I love it when he fights." John paused for a moment to pull out some lube - there seemed to be a bottle on nearly every surface of the room - and slicked himself up. He moved around, sitting back on his heels between Sherlock's legs, and shuffled his way further up. He dexterously looped an arm under each one and pulled up, jerking Sherlock's top half completely down against the bed, his arms yanked up tight against his restraints, which gave John just enough slack on the other end to pull him partially onto his lap. John dropped a hand for a second to line himself up, then wrapping his arms around Sherlock's upper thighs, gave a final yank and pulled the detective onto his prick, rising onto his knees and sighing as he sank into him.

_"Oh god, yes, squirm,"_ he breathed, as Sherlock struggled against the intrusion. _"Fight me,_ there's a good boy." John began to fuck Sherlock with gusto holding on tightly to his legs, lifting his arse slightly off the bed as he pounded into him, the chains around his ankles clinking once as they were pulled to their limit while Sherlock fought. "Oh yeah! _Oh that's good!"_ John groaned again as Sherlock thrashed, _"Christ, _you're Such. A. Good. _Fuck!" _John punctuated each word with a snap of his hips into the tightly bound maelstrom of resistance in front of him.

John was enjoying himself, but at the same time, knowing the camera could only see his back, he looked down at Sherlock with concern in his eyes. Sherlock hadn't signalled to stop anything even once, and John knew that if it had been him, he certainly would have - at least a half-dozen times by now. Sherlock simply looked back at him from mattress, his eyes shielded from the camera by his arms which were angled up past his head to his cuffs, and blinked slowly and calmly at him - he was still okay.

They continued to put on a show, Sherlock pulling and thrashing, John burying himself to the hilt with each thrust, pulling Sherlock viciously onto his cock; throwing his head back and groaning with every pitch of Sherlock's body.

Seeming to remember they had an audience of sorts, John finally turned back to the camera, looking at it over his shoulder as he continued to piston in and out of Sherlock. "He hates it when I make him come. Has no idea what to do with the fact that I can. He gets so _conflicted_ - it's adorable!" Sherlock started rocking his head back and forth in an urgent 'no-no-no', but John just chuckled as he adjusted his angle to rub against Sherlock's prostate with every thrust. He was talented, and Sherlock's body started to tense even as he continued to shake his head, squeezing his eyes shut as his muscles clenched and he began to spurt across his stomach. John delved in even faster, Sherlock's arse clenching around him, fucking him through it fiercely, before also tensing, thrusting deep inside and releasing with a groan.

Sherlock let his body go glassy-eyed and limp, showing that he realized the battle was over, his body done fighting - that he'd been taken and vanquished, again. John, still breathing hard, reached past him for a butt plug and drilled it into him, stoppering him up completely. "Don't want to waste it," he panted back at the camera, "I fought for that. Now I want his body to absorb every drop." Sherlock moaned forlornly in the background, barely audible through the muzzle.

He sat up at the edge of the bed, Sherlock looking like a chained and worn-out rag doll in the middle of it. John brushed the sweat from his own forehead as he spoke, "He can carry on like that all day if you let him, just leave the bed, give him a few minutes to recover, come back and tell him you're going to do it all over again and how much his body was built for your cock, and he's always ready to fight again. I think he thinks it's the only real chance he'll get to overpower me and get loose." He grinned cockily.

"You'd think by now he'd know he can't win, but it's a fun stubborn streak - I hope he never gets over it. You do have to be careful though. I kept the chains short enough this time, but if you give him an extra link or two, he can be quite dangerous, nearly strangled me with a chain once, so if you like the rough fucks - which are _incredible_ - be sure you keep a syringe close by that you can use to knock him out if he gets too much of an upper hand - keep it just far enough away that he can't reach it though. He's a crafty little fuck.

"As much as I'd like to keep doing that to him all day - _and oh, those are fun days!_ - it is time we got moving on to other things. As sweaty as we've both gotten, it's time to clean him up, which means shower time! For that I've got to drug him, because as you can tell, he's not just going to come along quietly on his own." Here he picked up the little syringe he'd mentioned earlier, uncapped it, squeezed a drop out through the needle, then pushed it into Sherlock's upper arm, hearing Sherlock inhale sharply through his nose. "There. Give that a couple of minutes to work and he'll be as pliant as a kitten. In the meantime, let me show you the bathroom setup."

He walked over, retrieved the camera from the tripod once more and strolled into the bathroom.


	6. Bathtubs, Forgetfulness & Suggestibility

The 'drug' he'd dosed Sherlock with was a simple saline injection, but there was no way those who would watch the scene would know that, and as soon as John had walked out of the room with the camera, Sherlock blew out a long silent breath - it was his first time off-camera since they'd first turned it on. He gently lifted one arm and flexed it until the life started to come back into it, repeating it with the other. Things were nearly at an end - at least production-wise. They still had things to set up - John's 'business' email and video accounts, for example, a bit of editing, and then to get the video shoot into the right hands.

He could hear John in the next room, giving the video tour, showing off the various hooks and rings in the ceiling and on the floor which could be used simply to tether him to, or for a good shower fuck, if that was something on the agenda. He explained with a note of pride in his voice, that they were strong enough to support and restrain even a struggling fucktoy, should he like to wait for him to come around before taking him again.

He heard him move over to the enema gear, permanently installed next to the toilet, and again explain that this was best to do while their toy was drugged - Not on the plan for today though - today was just for showing how to go about cleaning this particular feisty bit of fun safely, with no injury to oneself.

He panned down to the tub, also littered with attachment points, but didn't get enough time to explain them all, as he noted that the drug had probably kicked in by now.

Sherlock quickly re-positioned himself and looked completely stoned again as John came back into the room and panned the camera back over him. "See? No fight left at all. He's really amiable like this." He slipped a collar around Sherlock's throat, snapping a leash to it, then unfastened all his other restraints, including the muzzle, and pulled Sherlock to his feet, steadying him carefully with one hand on his hip, until Sherlock got his balance. He led him into the bathroom on the leash, Sherlock apparently either not noticing it, or too out of it to think it odd.

He looked about, still half out of his head and asked, "What's going on?" blearily.

"We're getting you cleaned up, and that's okay, right?" queried John with an upbeat tone.

Sherlock nodded dumbly.

"Good, over to the sink now, let's brush those teeth." He tied off the leash to a ring by the sink, and cuffed one of Sherlock's hands to it. The detective didn't seem to take any notice. "Okay, open up, lets show off those nice, shiny teeth of yours, right?"

Sherlock drew his lips back as a toothbrush full of paste was pushed into his mouth and his teeth, gums and tongue thoroughly scrubbed, spitting when he was instructed to.

He was given time to piss, and did so perfunctorily as John steadied him.

Next he led Sherlock over to the tub, positioned him in it and tethered his arms and legs to the various rings in the sides, then clipping an 'O' ring at the back of his collar to another ring at the back edge of the tub, where his head tilted down to rest on it, listlessly. The taps were turned on and the tub slowly filled with water.

John sank down on his knees next to it, lathered up a flannel and began to soap Sherlock all over. Sherlock got the shivers and moaned slightly as he was cleaned, completely unconcerned with who it was who was bathing him. "Feels good, doesn't it?" came John's voice as he continued to wash him. Sherlock nodded.

John's arm disappeared further into the tub and Sherlock's head dropped back again. You could tell he was stroking Sherlock's cock simply from the movements, Sherlock's blissful look and the devious grin on John's face. John turned to the camera saying, "He really doesn't have a clue what's going on, so he just goes with whatever." He gave Sherlock a few more strokes, then soaped up his back and rinsed him all off.

He finished by shampooing Sherlock's hair and rinsing it with fresh water, then drained the tub, finishing up his bodily inspection and rubbing healing salves onto areas that had gotten damaged during the last two day's intensive activities.

He pulled Sherlock up and out of the tub, then sat him in front of him, leaning back on his heels, leash in his hand.

Sherlock looked about himself as if he hadn't already just seen the room.

"Hey." He caught Sherlock's attention. "You're a nice, straight boy aren't you? Never sucked a cock in your life, have you?" Sherlock looked like he was trying to focus on the words but just nodded along anyway. "But you want to."

Sherlock blinked up at him. "I do?" He was annunciating but still sounded a bit drunk.

"Oh yes. You do. Quite a lot. You want to know what it feels like. You've been very curious."

"I have?"

"Yup, even talked me into letting you suck me. You haven't yet, but you finally convinced me. You could do it now, if you want."

"Um... Okay?"

John chuckled as he stood in front of Sherlock, his cock jutting out in front of the detective's face.

"Well, there it is. Why don't you suck it?"

Sherlock stared at it for a moment, then leaned forward and took it into his mouth.

"Oh, that's good! You're really good at this! Suck it some more, yes?"

Sherlock nodded dumbly again and began to suck in earnest; John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair and guided him up and down his shaft. "Relax your throat because now you want me to fuck your face."

Sherlock nodded again, and John locked his head in place and began thrusting deeply in and out of his mouth.

Sherlock hadn't been making a sound, but John said, "Oh god, listen to you moan, you love this, don't you?" Whereupon the suggestion hit home and Sherlock began moaning wantonly as John's cock slid in and out of his mouth. John grinned at the camera.

"You love my cock, don't you?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Say it."

"I love your cock." Sherlock mumbled around it.

"You want me to come down your throat, don't you?"

Again, Sherlock nodded.

"Say it." Sherlock did, and John didn't wait for him to latch on again before he pushed himself back between the detective's lips. "Your wish is my command," he answered, ploughing into Sherlock's mouth with long strokes until he moaned loudly, pushed all the way back in and shot pulse after pulse down Sherlock's throat.

Sherlock swallowed multiple times as it burst down into him, trying to keep his airway clear, and looking as if he'd done something good.

John finished shivering, pulled out of Sherlock's mouth and said, "Oh god! That was fantastic! _You loved it!_ You can't _wait_ to have some cock in your mouth again!" And Sherlock definitely looked as if he believed it.

"See?" John asked the camera, "so very compliant, and," he chuckled, "so very, _very_ suggestible like this, but sadly, with the drug I'm using right now, he won't remember any of it. Still, it's a lot of fun. We've got about twenty minutes left until it starts to wear off, so let me get him positioned for our final coup de grace. He pulled Sherlock back up to his feet, wiped the little bit of dribble off of his chin, grabbed the camera, and led him back to the bedroom.


	7. The Stockade and the Sales Pitch

There was a doggy style stockade at the far side of the room, near where the tripod had originally been standing. John moved the tripod to a new position, reattached the camera and got he best angle on it he could, then he led Sherlock over to it. He removed the collar and leash, pushing Sherlock down onto all fours, leaning over a raised chest pad in the middle of the device, then gently forcing Sherlock's neck into the stockade's attached, welded steel collar, snapping it closed and locking it with a large padlock. He did the same with his hands and feet, moving them in place on the stockade, then snapping the attached shackles closed around them and locking them as well.

Next he pulled up a strange, standing, metal device with a long metal rod extending from it. It was plugged into the wall and settled behind Sherlock, then John attached a large dildo to the end of the rod and its purpose became clear. He dolloped a large quantity of lube onto it and, removing the plug already seated there, slowly introduced it to Sherlock's arse, moving the device closer, rather than turning it on.

"Fucking machine," explained John, "Pricey and only available on the Internet, but once I had him I knew I needed one. Two actually, because after I got the first one, I thought a second would be nice to keep his mouth full." And at this, he pulled a second machine out, positioning this one in front of Sherlock and attaching a smaller dildo to its rod. Then he pushed it into place, making sure the dildo was settled far into his mouth, but not enough to make him gag.

"I've already extended the rods to their outermost position, so these won't go any deeper than I have them now, but they're settled far enough inside that they won't be coming all the way out either. I've adjusted the one in his mouth for shallow thrusts, which should still _just_ miss reaching the back of his throat, and the one in his arse for deeper ones. I'd like to get these going now, and let you see what happens when the drug wears off.

"I've done it before and he struggles so nicely. I did learn, however, that it pays to have the stockade bolted to the floor when we do this, or else he tends to tip everything over. As you can see now, it's quite well reinforced." And sure enough, several large bolts had been driven through the central and cross bars, directly down into the floor. This device was going nowhere, no matter how much anyone tried to break free.

He clicked the on button on each one and they slowly began to pump into Sherlock's arse and mouth. John's words from before had apparently stuck with him because Sherlock groaned around the cock invading his mouth, and sucked on it, still looking a bit drugged up, while the other one pistoned slowly in and out of his arse.

Soon, the moans died down, and John upped the speed just a little bit, so it was still thrusting deeply, just not quite as slowly.

A few more minutes on and there was a curious noise, followed a few minutes after that by a very indignant one and some shuffling as Sherlock tried to free himself from his prison of dual penetration. No matter how he squirmed, the dildos were deep enough that they weren't going to be dislodged, and Sherlock was locked into a position that he wasn't going to be able to change enough to allow him to do anything about it.

The stockade wasn't going anywhere, and neither was Sherlock - the dildos continued their assault, pushing his mouth and arse full of them at every other slightly increasing rotation.

John stopped fiddling with the dials to call out, "Hello again, my cute little fucktoy! Nice to have you back with us. You put on a good show, all right? Go ahead and resist -or don't- it's still nice to see you getting impaled with cock, no matter how you take it. I've no doubt a creative owner will make sure those are real soon enough." Sherlock let out a grunt of indignation yet again, but still couldn't manage to get away from his predicament.

John smiled indulgently and sat down facing one corner of the camera, still allowing for a view of Sherlock in the background, as the machines ploughed into him.

"So, I expect you're wondering a few things, price among them - we'll get to that in a second.

"I know someone's bound to ask that if I'm enjoying him so much, why sell him? Why not just rent him out?

"Frankly, that takes a lot more clients than I could drum up to earn the money I need within the space of time I need it. I know a lot of perverts," he smiled, "but not quite _that_ many. All-in-all, it would take a rather large operation with lots of steady clients to do that.

"Yes, I will be sorry to see him go - he is _fantastic_ to play with, but I'm sure selling him is a good way to pay off my debts, and then some, and perhaps I can find another one someday, who, if not exactly as much fun, might come close.

"Maybe, if his new owners don't decide to break him entirely, I'd even be able to buy him back someday if a few of my investments go well. But I really don't plan on that, since I think whoever ends up buying him is definitely going to want to keep him.

"His price will start at £250,000. If that seems like a lot, you're shopping in the wrong place. You've seen him: he's gorgeous, well endowed, he's got a good amount fire and fight left in him, but also can be tired out to the point he won't struggle at all. He needs minimal amounts of care, can go long periods without food, reducing the amount of prep you need in order to enjoy him. He's had only one owner and his body is amazing, not to mention his arse is still incredibly tight. He's quite sensitive and it's completely possible to make him come, even when he doesn't want to, (almost especially when he doesn't want to) which really is a lovely way to mind-fuck him. When certain drugs are used, he's quite pliable and humorously suggestible. On top of all that, he's also been 'vanished' for a few years since I first took him, and I can guarantee no one is looking for him anymore. He's a fucktoy who still harbours delusions of independence and probably always will, making him an absolute delight to conquer.

"A private owner will find he's a treasure and worth every penny, while those who might wish to use him as an investment will find that he's the type of toy that would be quite popular in certain circles who love a bit of a real struggle and a gorgeous body to defile. One with many clients could easily recoup their investment within a year, as even a few hours with him would command top dollar.

"Okay, well, that's the pitch. I hope you've enjoyed the presentation. In any further communication and for the auction, he will simply be referred to as 'Lot 142' so as to dissuade any speculation by those not in the know as to our topic of discussion.

"He also comes with all the equipment and toys you saw me use on him here, with the exception of the rings in the shower and tub as they're nightmares to remove.

"There will be no free 'test-drives' of the merchandise, as this not only lowers his value, but opens us up to people who are just out for a joyride and not serious buyers.

"I've set up a personal auction website at the link below, and he will be posted for bids from the 3rd of this month through the 5th. It's a sealed first-bid auction, to guarantee our bidders' anonymity, so make sure your offer accurately represents how much you're willing to pay for him - you only get the one chance, after all. After the fifth, bidding will be closed and he'll go to the highest bidder who has at least met the starting price.

"Thanks for watching, I hope to see you when the bidding starts." And with that, John reached forward and shut off the camera, Sherlock still squirming in the background. He disconnected it from the massive external drive it had been recording to and moved that over to connect the laptop so it could be edited and uploaded. Then he finally went to shut off the machines and pull them away from Sherlock.

Kneeling over him from behind, he ground against his arse and mentioned, "I think I've got a thing for watching you squirm now. Do you mind much if I take you like this before I let you go?"

Sherlock groaned, but nodded his assent so John gagged him, then mounted him from behind and was fucking him with intent in no short order, maintaining in his mind the fiction of horny, evil bastard taking his fucktoy any way he pleased - fantasy was quite a bit different from reality, after all. The last few days had certainly brought along a lot of that, and John idly wondered if he'd ever snap out of the horny haze he'd been in since the whole roleplaying shtick had begun.

He finally came with a grunt, and lay over Sherlock's back for a while, gathering himself, before unlocking him from the stockade and allowing him to stand up.

* * *

.

**Author's Note:**

Curious about the stockade and/or the fucking machines?

Pictures of both can be found over at Extremerestraints

Look for 'stockade with chest pad' and 'versa fuk machine'


	8. The Set-Up and the Sting

Sherlock rested for a while, eating when John groused at him; then having regained some strength and wanting to get on with the case, managed in a few short hours to edit the film down for size, keeping an uncut version as well, set up a website on an anonymous server and an untraceable email account for John.

John viewed the finished edit, seeing that his contact information now showed at the end of the film, as did the website and instructions on how to access the auction area. All this was shown in a black box that overlay one side of the screen, while on the other, the struggling, chained rape of Sherlock was re-played in black and white. "Bound to be the most popular bit; that is what most of this crowd is in it for, after all." Sherlock commented over John's shoulder before the doctor could even turn to voice his question.

John furrowed his brow again. "When's this going live?"

"Any time now. I've narrowed down the 'speciality' websites the participants likely frequent. All I have to do is hop on the most likely two and post an innocuous little note to gain their attention.

He grinned at John who was still sitting nervously in front of the monitor. "Shall I make the post?"

"No. I'm fucking nervous as hell."

"John... the sooner we start, the sooner it's over with and we'll catch the bastards doing this, maybe even save someone before it's done to them."

John heaved a steadying sigh, then relinquished his seat in front of the computer. Sherlock swept in, navigated to the first website and logged in. It appeared to be a simple company website, it's name however, was 'Chattel Concepts', and John cringed as he realised its meaning. Sherlock navigated around the site, came to a locked forum, entered several codes then was able to post. He quickly typed out something that looked like gibberish, then several numbers that John recognised as a simple web address, and another string of meaningless gibberish underneath.

"What the hell is that?" he asked as Sherlock logged into his second targeted site to re-post the information.

"Simple code, but it makes them feel more secure," he replied. "First line says 'Sexy, Straight and Struggling: serious bidders only.' The next, I'm sure you can tell, is our website address, and beneath that is the password, also in code."

With a flourish, Sherlock hit the enter button one more time, posting the details to the second site.

Within minutes, activity started to pick up across the board, excited chatter amongst posters on the illicit sites and many, many hits to the video. Most of the incoming IPs were from anonymous proxy servers, but a few had neglected to mask their addresses.

Apart from new people discovering it on the sites Sherlock had posted to, there was a period of calm as the first viewers watched the edited version through to the end.

John's email pinged with a few requests for the unedited version and Sherlock quickly sent out responses with the address and access code.

With that much done, there was little to do but wait. The auction was set to start in just a few days. Sherlock left the websites open to check on activity the following morning, and he and John tucked themselves in on the couch, ordering in, and watching television well into the night before retiring to bed.

* * *

The day of the auction arrived and John was unaccountably nervous - it wasn't him on the auction block, after all.

"Why, exactly, are we letting this run for three entire days?" he asked.

Sherlock rested his chin on John's head, peering over him at the laptop as he replied, "Adds to the illusion and also entices more of them to place a bid. The more we can get with this, the more of them we can take down when the time comes."

"If we want to get as many as possible, why'd we set your price so high?"

"Believability, for starters, and also, since we're mainly after the ring, to discourage those who might just be casual observers, working themselves into a lather over a fantasy, rather than serious players."

They watched periodically during the day as bids came in, and they were able, from their side of the interface, to see Sherlock's value skyrocket. Apparently, the most serious of them were willing to pay over half-a-million pounds.

More bids came in over the next two days.

When the last day of the auction came to a close, Sherlock composed congratulatory messages from the email account he'd set up, _to every single bidder_, announcing they'd won, and arranging a time for them to come and pick up their 'merchandise'.

Only then was Lestrade alerted - and he'd had to scramble to make sure he had officers in place outside before the first of the 'winners' arrived to claim his prize.

When the first pick-up time arrived, John let the buyer in and they tromped upstairs to where Sherlock sat on the couch, clothed, but shackled, and seemingly drugged once again. Boxes of his 'accoutrements' sat piled against the back of the couch, the stockade visible amongst them.

Lestrade stood in the corner, in plain clothes, holding a rifle and looking every bit the part of an enforcer.

John nodded at him and explained, "Protection. Didn't know if you'd be someone who might just try to kill me and take him without paying."

His fingers itched and he held himself in check as he allowed the stranger to inspect Sherlock to a superficial degree then, satisfied, count out a staggering amount of money from a duffel bag and hand it over to John. He arranged to have a van pull up just outside the flat and Sherlock squirrelled into it before anyone could notice.

John agreed, and as the man left Lestrade alerted his squad, who closed in and captured the man and two of his cronies with little effort.

Sherlock had only scheduled an hour for each pick-up and an extra thirty minutes for the officers to do their work; the second appointment was closing in as they managed to clear the street and set up for the next sting.

The process continued all day long, Lestrade watching the money change hands and listening to the incriminating discussions before siccing his squad on them.

They'd started at six in the morning and it continued until nearly midnight. They'd nabbed over twelve people, three major traffickers and several big players.

Turning them over to the Human Sex and Trafficking division, they'd managed to get details out of them fairly quickly as nearly everyone was willing to turn in their cohorts in order to cut a better deal for themselves. Several establishments were raided and more than thirty victims rescued, with many more arrests being made.

What had started out as a simple missing persons case had snowballed and taken down a huge portion of the human trafficking trade in Britain.

Happy and exhausted, they'd flopped into bed that night with even Sherlock asleep within minutes.


	9. The Epilogue

Weeks went by before the two mentioned the case again. It was _definitely not_ one John could post on the blog.

He'd walked into the bedroom one day after coming home, following one of Sherlock's less interesting cases, and seen the mess of boxes containing all the equipment they'd used, still piled up against the wall.

"What are we going to do with all of this, Sherlock?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder. "We can't keep it in here forever..."

"Why not?" Sherlock slithered up behind him, wrapping his arms around John's waist and resting his head on top of John's again, peering into the room.

The question had him startled. "What do you mean, 'Why not?' "

"Well, we spent thousands on it, for starters, and... I really rather enjoyed some of it. I like you putting me through my paces, even liked fighting some. Of course, if you weren't someone I trust implicitly, it wouldn't be any fun at all."

John tilted his head back to watch Sherlock continue speaking.

"Then, of course, comes the issue of fair play," he grinned, "I mean, you had me tied up and at your mercy for a day and a half. I think it's only fair I get some of my own back, don't you?" he asked, a mischievous smile flitting across his face, "The chains are still on the bed, after all."

It was true. Neither of them had had the oomph to remove them since they'd completed the sting. They'd just been kicked under the bed or stuffed behind the headboard.

John turned to look at him, unable to ignore the tightening sensation in his jeans - at least _one_ part of him thought this was a really good idea!

"Um..." he blushed.

Sherlock waited, eyes fixed on John's, his devious smile returning full force.

Twenty minutes later saw John naked and in the shower, Sherlock taking him heatedly as John's feet were spread wide and tethered to the eye-bolts in the floor, his hands pulled up above his head and slightly in front of him, attached to the ring in the ceiling, making him lean over at _just_ the right angle. He hadn't been lying to the camera when he'd gone on about their sturdiness.

He was panting hard as Sherlock took him, stroking him along with every thrust.

"After this," Sherlock leaned down to breathe in his ear, "I'm taking you to bed, where I'm going to chain you down, and take you all night. _Whenever I feel like it, John_."

That was all it took, before the doctor came, shivering wildly as Sherlock pounded him, his come splattering across the wall in front of him. His _"Oh god! Sherr-locckk!"_ echoing all the way downstairs, where Mrs Hudson blushed and turned up the volume on her television.

_Yes,_ thought Sherlock, _tonight was going to be very interesting indeed!_

* * *

~ Fin ~

* * *

_Well, that's it folks! Hope you enjoyed the ride! If so, please leave a comment; I thrive on them! Thanks!_


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